The Marking
by Rand0mnessR0ks
Summary: Just a short two shot, Bella and Jasper meet one night at his tattoo parlor, simple thoughts from a simple man. Wasn't sure about the rating, just a few choice words. A/H.
1. Day One

**The Characters belong to SM, I just took them out to play!**

**The Marking**

I was leaning back in my chair precariously balanced, my legs stretched out in front of me flipping through a not so recent copy of _Rolling Stones_. I was surprised by how slow of a night it was, especially for a Friday, typically Breaking Dawn was slammed at this time of night, I catch myself looking down at my watch, morning now. Just thirty-five more minutes then we close. I yawn, stretching my arms above my head and flip the magazine towards the waiting area, with a slap the magazine slides across the beat up surface of the army service trunk and skids under the mismatched waiting chairs... Damn…

I contemplate just leaving it there, but know Angela would have my ass if it's not there in the morning, I don't know why she insists on keeping this issue around, it's months old, but I'm not willing to tick off the womae of Breaking Dawn. I groan as I force my muscles into action, how long had I been sitting there? I stretch once more enjoying the feel of my perfectly worn in Tee and low slung jeans against my body. I amble over to the ball chair, and lean over, pulling the offending magazine from behind the base of the red chair. Just as I begin to straighten the Zombie moans as the front door is pushed open.

I look up a smile on my face, "Welcome to Breaking Daw…" I'm cut short by the sight that meets my eyes. Red rimmed eyes, with such dark circles under them that my first reaction is anger, thinking someone had the audacity to hit this poor creature, then I realize, lack of sleep. Pale skin, stretched taught over high strong cheek bones, tears continue to leak from those glorious hazelnut eyes.

"I need a tattoo." The most melodic voice I have ever heard whispers from cracked dried lips that quiver, as if holding back sobs. My storm grey eyes swiftly move over the rest of the creature before me, oversize Dark Side of the Moon tee, dark washed boot cut jeans that are just a little too baggy, bubble gum pink chucks with scuff marks and a little hole in the right shoe near the toe.

I raise an eyebrow at the creature before me, "why do you need a tattoo?" She stutters, caught off guard by the question, she strengthens her grip on the door. I notice a band on her right wrist; it looks like one of those basic information bands they give you at the hospital.

"…It's part of the plan," her hand flashes to her mouth, trying to recover the sacred words she just uttered. "Please… I… I have money, I just, please..." Her tears stream more quickly down her pale cheeks, her eyes beseech me to just allow her, this one request.

"Alright darlin' come on over to the chair." A sigh brushes across her perfect lips as they quiver in gratitude. She follows me silently, shuffling her feet, her mind clearly not noticing her procession as she doesn't side step the 60's wet bar that we use as a reception counter and catches her side on the corner.

A cry of pain escapes her lips as her hand grasps onto my forearm. I feel a metal circle dig into my arm as I reach out to her with my other arm, encircling with the only safety I could, myself. "Shh Darlin' it's ok, shh." I fee her quiver around me, one hand clasped to my arm the other digging into her side. She automatically leans into me and sighs longingly.

She presses her head, with her messy ponytail, against my chest briefly before pulling away, "thank you." Strawberries and freesia surround me momentarily before I remove my arms from the now precious creature with the haunted hazelnut eyes. I nod silently, noticing she won't meet my eyes.

As we reach my chair she reclines and sighs softly, almost blissfully, as if grateful to be off her feet. I notice that her left hand, the hand that she used to steady herself on my forearm, is clenched in a tight fist. I also notice two bands on her ring finger, one an engagement and the other a wedding band.

She digs in her pocket and pulls out a faded piece of paper with words written across it. "I need this, here." She motions to the paper and then to her left wrist right above the pulse point.

I raise an eyebrow, "that's going to hurt, a lot." She nods, but thrusts the paper at me. I take it and look at the writing. _Ich werde den Schmerz überleben_. I begin to gather my supplies, but refuse to look up at her, for some reason the thought of causing her pain, is making me ill. "What color?"

"White," passes her lips as her haunted eyes close as her breathing steadies, the endless tears begin to slow and finally cease.

I nod, I hand over the clip board with the waiver of liability, the contact information sheet, payment agreement sheet, and other legal shit that's required. While she works on the paperwork I begin working on the outline of the tat she wants, I write with an elegant script with the sentence measuring about an inch and a half in length. As I lean back admiring my handiwork she stretches her delicate arm towards me clipboard out stretched.

I take the clipboard and look over her information. Isabella M Mason. Twenty-Five years old, no alcohol consumption, wavers signed, payment style cash. Looks like all the T's have been crossed and all the I's have been dotted.

"Ok, Isabella, this is what I have come up with for you, what do you think?" I hold the design up for her to view. Her breath hitches as her eyes view the simple yet elegant font, with the foreign words. Her eyes glaze over with tears, she closes her beautiful hazelnut eyes briefly and nods her head.

"Perfect," she quietly whispers, "and my name is Bella." Her name rolls around my head, for some reason making my heart beat against my breast bone, her name fits her like perfections.

"I'll need to make sure it fits before we decide on the… price." I feel like such a cad, talking about money, this feels to intimate to spoil with greed. She holds out her delicate left wrist, her left hand still clenched tightly in a fist. I gently place the sketch over her beautiful porcelain wrist. Perfect.

I quickly do the math in my head the cost of the supplies, removing my general additional fees, and come up with forty five dollars. I breathe in savoring her scent and delight in the fact her blessed name gets to cross my lips. "Bella, it looks like it's gonna be forty-five for your new piece of skin art."

She looks up at me, finally looking me in the eyes since she first walked in, a nameless emotion flashing through her eyes, "… you're under charging me."

I inhale sharply, but keep all other emotions from crossing my face, "no, it's a single color tat less than two inches in length, it will take less than twenty minutes to do, I don't have to change needles, again due to the small size, and besides we're slow as Fuck, you get the Jasper's bored as Fuck discount. So just say thank you."

She tilts her head to the side, taking my measure, and it's at that point that I realize that I just dropped the f-bomb twice in front of a lady, I was mortified. Her lips twitch slightly at this point, and fear that she will start to cry again, fear takes hold in my gut, but no, it's a…smile?

"Hmm… the Jasper's bored as Fuck discount?" I nod my head, trying my hardest not to blush as the she so casually drops the f-bomb. "Alright, get to it then." I take her left wrist in my hand, amazed at the intensity of her skin against mine, and place it softly on the arm of the chair, noting her hand is still clenched in a fist.

I apply the stencil, wetting it down, and carefully remove it from her delicate skin. Excitement courses through me as I realize, I get to mark her, she will forever have this piece on her skin, everyday she will see it, me. Every day, a part of her will be mine… I stop aghast, where did that thought come form? She's married, she could never be mine.

I finish getting everything in order for the tattoo, and realize how quiet it is in the store, not a sound, but our soft breathing. That is atypical. Normally if this is someone's first tattoo they are asking all sorts of questions. If they were veterans they would typically compare our shop to others they had been in, or share horror stories about tattoos gone wrong, but not with her. I look up from under my eye lashes and am amazed to see that she appears to be asleep, her fist against her heart, tears silently streaming down her face.

I gently reach over and shake her shoulder, "Bella? Darlin'? Wake up hun." Her soulful eyes flutter open with such despair my heart yearns to take it all away.

"…I…I was hoping it was all a nightmare…" she morns as she sits a little straighter in the chair.

"What Darlin' what's a nightmare?" She shakes her head, her eyes pleading with me not to ask. A sigh passes my lips, "alright, you sure you want to do this?" She nods. I dip the needles in the ink and begin the painful process of inking the pristine skin of her left wrist.

Throughout the process, no words are spoken between us, not a sound comes from the living doll sitting in my chair. Her lower lip is captured between her teeth, but the tears that have been her near constant companion are amazingly absent as I assault her flesh with the device of torture in my hands.

Several times I have had to stop, not for her, but for me; my hands begin to shake so badly at the pain I know I'm causing her, but at last, twenty minutes later my mark is complete. She exams it over my bent head as I wipe the excess paint from her skin, hating myself when I see her innocent blood, I gently wrap her wrist in gauze and go over the care instructions, refusing to look at her.

We walk to the wet bar for her to pay, she hands be eighty dollars, I look up at her, as I try to push the offending money away. She stands firm, made of stone. "No Jasper, take it, that was the quoted price I got early this week, with tip. You don't know how much you have helped me tonight." Her voice sooths the beast within me trying to rage against the calm façade I had created. "Please Jasper, don't make this day any harder for me, please…" She begs me, her companion of tears again appear. I nod silently removing the money from the counter.

She nods her head, and walks out the door, shoulders hunched and shaking as she disappears into the night.


	2. The Next Day

**Again SM owns it all, I just play with the characters**

**The Next Day**

I walk into Breaking Dawn at a quarter till five, trying to force a smile on my face, but knowing it doesn't reach my eyes. I reach for the paper that is sitting on the wet bar, and am surprised to see its open to the obituaries. As I go to turn the page a name catches my eye…. _Mason_.

_Edward Anthony Mason Junior, passed away May 8, 2011 after his life long battle with Cystic Fibrosis. He is survived by his father Edward Mason Senior, his Mother Elizabeth Mason, and wife Isabella Mason. Edward had recently graduated from the University of Tennessee Knoxville Law School; he had plans to join his father's law firm. He was actively involved in the Nashville community volunteering his time at Youth Encouragement Services, as well as actively participating in the local chapter of the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. Mr & Mrs Mason Senior have been upstanding members of the Nashville community, and have donated generous sums to multiple preservation societies with in the community. Mason Senior, of Mason, Puckett, and Loveless, a prestigious law firm, located off of music row, planned on having his son join him at his law firm, and eventually pass down the family business Mrs Mason Sr, contributes her time to the local chapter of the Daughter of the American Revolution, and other charitable organizations. Both Masons were seen leaving Vanderbilt Hospital in the early hours of May 8__th__ leaning heavily on each other and weeping openly at the loss of their only child. The widow kindly requests that instead of flowers, funds be contributed to the local Cystic Fibrosis chapter, hoping that a cure will one day __be__ found, so that one less family will suffer. A memorial service will be held at Belle Meade Plantation, Wednesday May 11, 2011 at 6 o'clock in the evening._

Poor Bella, no wonder she was in such turmoil. I take the paper with me to my station and cut out the obituary, carefully putting it in with my drawing supplies when I see the piece of paper with the words Bella had be sear into her beautiful flesh yesterday. I swiftly pull out my iPhone and google free translations, I think it's German, but I'm not positive. I find a promising sight and type in _Ich werde den Schmerz überleben_. "I will survive the pain." How fitting.

I read the obituary again, and frustration begins to creep over my body, tightening my muscles. It sounds more like a list of accomplishments for his parent's than anything else. Bella is mentioned in passing once, at the beginning and then, my beautiful girl's request to help others…wait, what? My beautiful girl? Where is this coming from? I only met her for 30 minutes last night. Why do I feel so protective, why do I feel like she's mine?

A boot comes in contact with my shin, "what the fu…" I see Angela peering down at me.

I sigh, "what do you want?"

"You stole my paper, tard," she crosses her arms and pouts at me.

"It's not your paper, woman, it's the stores." I huff right back at her, her pouting had long ago lost all power over me.

"But I wasn't done with it!"

I take the paper and toss it to her. "There ya go, have your wicked way with it." She grabs in and storms off, cursing me under her breath.

Erick thunders into the store at that moment, looking like someone had just set fire to his favorite collection of Hustler. I cock my head at him. He flips me the bird and walks to his station. No words are needed in our silent conversation, he knows I'm here, and he's not wanting to talk.

"Erick…"Angela walks around the corner and wraps her arms around her lover. She sniffs, he rubs soothing circles on her back and kisses her gently on her perfectly coiffed multicolored hair.

"I know Angie Babe, I know."

"…Have you heard anything?" He shakes his head and sighs, pulling her into his lap.

"No, but we didn't expect to, remember?"

"Do you think we should go over?"

Again, he sighs, "no, you know it would just make it harder for her. You know how they are, you know how they treat her. She knows that we love her, we know what we need to do, it's part of the plan. That's why she came up with it, not just for her, but for everyone."

My ears perk up at the reference to the plan; Bella said something about the plan last night. I shake my head scoffing, that's ridiculous, there is no way it's related. I continue to get my station set up for opening, while I continue to listen to the conversation going on behind my back.

Angela sniffles, wiping her eyes, "do we know where or when yet?"

"No, she wants to wait for …" Erick's voice breaks, and he holds his girl tighter to him, his shoulders shaking as he fights back tears. Angela murmurs sweetly at him while she pets his arm as she too cries softly.

I clear my throat, uncomfortable with the emotions circulating throughout the room. "If ya'll need, we cannot open today? It looks as if ya'll might need some time…"

"No!" Angela shrieks, glaring at me. Erick smiles but shakes his head no.

"Nah man, thanks, but we can't close, I mean…" he shrugs, looking at me, speaking with his eyes. I nod, understanding, doing something, anything is better than doing nothing when this much sorrow surrounds you.

I glance at the clock and see that it's almost five thirty. "Alright folks, let's get our game faces on. Angela, I believe we have a steady stream of already scheduled appointments for tonight, but try and get those walk-ins to wait. Don't know where Mikey and Jess are, but their schedule is the lightest so try and get the walk-ins to them if at all possible. Erick, you have a sleeve to continue on a Mr. Sam Uley. Dude, you haven't finished that yet?" I raise a brow at him.

He just shakes his head, "he keeps on adding shit." I nod understanding.

I lean my chair back, balancing on the back to legs, enjoying the peace before the customer's start swarming all over the joint. Mike and Jess stole in at five fifty looking like something a pet from the pet cemetery wouldn't have dragged in.

"Where the hell have you two been?" Mike looks guiltily at Jess, and she just smiles, flashing her none too white teeth.

"Nun ya," she says as she walks to her booth getting her gear ready. As she walks past, her lack of body hygiene nearly makes me hurl on my black chucks.

"WTF? This is a clean fucking shop Jess. Get the fuck home and clean the fuck up. You know the health department would be on our ass like white on rice if they came in here with you like this, we do not need this Shit!"

She glares at me, "I'm natural Jasper, like Mother Nature intended."

I glare right back, "like hell, if Mother Nature intended people to stink to high heaven she wouldn't have invented water you ass!" at that Angela bursts into a fit of laughter so hard she has to hold onto the counter to keep from falling over, Erick claps, and I smile smugly at the whore from hell.

She swears at me as she leaves, hopefully going home to shower.

My first client comes in and I am soon lost in the comfort of ink, blood, and the buzzing of my craft.

Hours pass, customers come and go, but I can never fully shake the memory of certain chocolate eyes from my memory. I nod my head distractedly in farewell to first Mike, then Angela, and finally Ben. Jessica the bitch, never came back, looks like I have an open chair again.

I look at my watch as I sip the cooling coffee in my hand, one o'clock, almost closing. I sigh and rub my hands against my eyes, thinking about Bella, once again. _Ever since I was a young boy, I've played the silver ball. From Soho down to Brighton, I must have played them all. But I ain't seen nothing like him, In any amusement hall. That deaf dumb and blind kid, Sure plays a mean pin ball!_ I sigh and get up, searching for the parlors phone, why Angela insisted on this song I have no idea, but again, I like myself fully functional, so I don't argue. I finally find the damn thing in the supply closet, behind the trashcan.

"Breaking Dawn." I hear loud music, and voices from the other end, and then a harsh breathing. "Hello?"

"…Is…is Angela there?" I can barely make it out, there is so much background noise, but the voice sounds female.

"No sorry, she left already."

I hear a sob on the other in of the line, "oh…ummm… is Ben there?"

My mind finally kicks into gear, "…Bella?"

"Ben?"

"No, its Jasper, we … met… last night?"

A soft sigh, "Oh, hi… so… Ben's not there?"

I shake my head, then realize like a dumb ass she can't see me, "no, it's just me here, is there anything I can do for you?"

A sigh and then a sob, "I can't get in touch with them, and I … there's this guy… and I didn't drive…. And there are just so many people…"

Fear starts to cloud my brain; anger starts to turn my vision red, "where are you?"

"…The Flying Saucer…I guess, I'll just call a cab, sorry to bother you…Jasper…"

"I'm coming to get you. Just wait right there, actually go to the bar, get a club soda or something and I'll come in side and get you. Wait for me." I'm flipping off the lights and locking the money up as I say this.

"You don't have too…"

"Fuck Bella, I'm coming so just sit down, and wait for me!" I click the phone off, toss it on the bar and slam the door behind me, locking it quickly. I climb into my black 1970 454 Chevelle SS, and take off before I even have my seat belt on.

It takes me five minutes to get from Broadway to Demonbruen to the Flying Saucer parking lot, pleased with myself that there is so little traffic at this time of night. I pocket my keys and head for the entrance. As I enter the pub I'm jostled from all sides, college students, young professionals, tourists… ah, it looks like someone is going to be making it up on the ring of honor tonight, if I understand the cheering correctly.

I push my way to the bar scanning for the delicate chocolate head I was looking for… There, in the corner, surrounded by adoring admirers of the male persuasion. I growl low in my chest as I make my way over to her, not so gently shoving a douche with a blonde ponytail out of my way. Her eyes meet mine and relief shines in them. I hold my hand out to her.

"Your chariot awaits m'lady." A grin crosses her lips and is met by my matching smirk. She takes my hand and rises not so gracefully from the bar stool, stumbling into my chest.

"Thanks Jasper," she slurs stepping away to grab her purse on the counter. I gently guide her out of the tavern, a hand on her lower back. She stumbles and latches onto my arm, swaying into me. I wrap my arm around her waist an guide her to my car, opening the door for her and practically putting her in, she seems to be all arms, legs, and warm breath. I buckle her in, and gently caress the hair away from her face.

Grinning, I look into her face, "you're totally smashed, Bella. Where do you live?" She sighs and shakes her head. A soft sob escapes her mouth, a hand cutting off the noise.

"I don't have a home…" She leans her head back on the headrest, tears leaking from her closed eyes. I caress her cheek, and gently close her door. Walk around my Chevell, and get in.

I gently stroke her hair out of her face, "you hungry?" She nods, never opening her eyes. "Alright," I turn the Chevelle on and pull out of the lot heading to Café Coco, and the good strong coffee and mellow atmosphere, hoping it would ease her pain. Ten minutes later, we pull into the lot next to the home that has been converted into the little Café.

I escort her to a quiet corner on the second floor, and gently settle her in a corner. Just now noticing the tight purple halter top she is wearing, with a pair of black boot cut jeans, and black cowboy boots adorn her feet. "What would you like?"

She looks up at me startled, seemingly in a world far away. "Coffee, I guess… now that we're here, I don't really feel like eating." She shrugs looking down at her hands, twisting her wedding band. I nod quickly and make my way back down stairs and order two coffee's a blueberry muffin, just in case.

I make my way back to the shattered beauty, and see her sitting staring out into the night. I slide into the booth across from her and gently place the coffee and muffin in front of her. She looks down and twirls the muffin in between her delicate pale hands.

"Ed…" She clears her throat, "Edward and I met over a blueberry muffin, did you know that?" She looks up at me, tears in her hazelnut orbs. "…Can I, can I tell you our story?" I nod my head, placing my hands around my coffee, and wondering how I could heal this beautiful girl.

She sips her coffee, and takes a big breath.

"I was working in the library, the late shift, and I was cramming for my German exam, when this guy," she sighs, laughing softly, "he bumbles in and sets of the book alarm. Now mind you, I am elbow deep in conjugations at this point and ready to pull out my hair, I mean who sets off the book alarm coming IN to the library? I don't even look at the idiot, I yell at him '_Halt die Klappe, du Idiot!'_ which in German is shut up you idiot, then I grab the first thing I can find, which happens to be my blueberry muffin, and hurl it at his head." She chuckles shaking her head at the memory.

"He left pretty damn fast after that, and I didn't think anything else of it. It was finals and everyone is a tad bit testy. So anyway the next week, I'm working on my paper for… God, was it Early Renaissance History?" she shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee. "Well any, I had kept on getting interrupted by the stupid freshman who apparently never learned the Dewy Decimal system and can't find anything, so after my last expedition into the stacks to help some freshman locate something or 'nother, I come back to the help desk and there, sitting with my things is a blueberry muffin."

She smiles, her eyes bright. "Now, I knew I had already had my blueberry muffin, and besides I didn't buy the crap kind they made on campus, I always went to Fox's Donut Den and got them there. So I'm looking around, and there's the idiot that I had thrown a muffin at the week before." She sighs leaning back into the booth, her knees drawn up to her chest. "From then on we dated, we fell in love…. The perfect fucking fairy tale…"

I raise my eyebrow at the woman sitting in front of me, not believing a word. "What pain, do you need to survive Bella?" She sighs leaning her head on her knees…

"You know, in every fairy tale, there's the protagonist and the antagonist?" I nod letting her know that I follow her so far, "well the antagonist in our story wasn't a witch that was angry because she wasn't the most fairest of them all, or a vampire wanting to suck my blood… No this antagonist always wins… eventually."

She moves then slowly out of the booth, and slides in next to me, putting her head on my shoulder, she looks up into my storm grey eyes, "Jasper, you're going to have to keep my grounded if I tell you this…" I nod, my arm encircling her slight frame, the scent of strawberries and stale beer, wafting around us.

"Edward had been diagnosed with a genetic disease, Cystic Fibrosis, when he was nine months old, this is a disease that lowers the immune system, and causes severe problems in the lungs and digestive tract. He had the typical issues that anyone with CF would have, trouble maintain wait, he would get UPI's a lot, and treat them with strong doses of IV antibiotics. But about a year ago, he got sick, it was our one year anniversary and we had gone to Gatlinburg for a few days, just to get away. He got an infection; like he had any number of times before, but this time… this time was different.

They started him on IV antibiotics, oral antibiotics, he was doing supplemental feedings, to help him keep his weight on, but nothing really seemed to get rid of this infection, about two months after the onset of the infection, he had to go on oxygen, and he was down to about nineteen percent lung function. The doctors started talking to us about transplants…" She sniffs, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and I hold her tighter, closer, trying to give her strength through my touch.

"So we started the process of registering him for transplant, since his lung function was still so high, they said we didn't need to rush, so it took us about three months to get all the testing, consolations, and insurance approvals completed. Edwards and I had agreed from the beginning, this was an all or nothing deal, we would commit to this plan and stick with it, or not even start the process, so when they listed him, I got our jump bag packed, put it next to the door, and we started waiting.

Edward was able to graduate in December from UT Knoxville, law school, and was scheduled to take the bar in two weeks…" she sobs, pulling tighter into me, "we got the call from the transplant office three nights ago, that they had a set of lungs from a donor that might be a match, everything was looking good, for the first time in almost a year, Edward wasn't running a temperature, his parent's met us at Vanderbilt and he began the pre-surgery procedures, they wheeled him back into surgery around four that afternoon…" She breaks down sobbing into my arms at this point, I try to shush and sooth her, rubbing circles on her back, rocking her, after a while she finally calms.

"About five hours into the surgery they had one of the donor lungs in and were just beginning removing his left lung, which should have been the easier of the two… but for some reason, it was just too much… My Edward died on the table two hours before our second wedding anniversary." With those words, the torrent of tears and dispair that had been blanketing her, seemed to lighten a little. "My, Edward…" She shakes her head and looks up at me. "You remind me of him, your soul is good like his…" I hug her to me, whispering sweet words in her ears.

"What can I do for you Bella?" I look into her red rimmed eyes, and see such sorrow.

"I just want to sleep, but I don't have a home anymore… it went away with Edward." I nod finally understand, she still has a house, but her home, her safe place, it's gone.

"Come on Bella, I'll take your house, where is it?" She sighs, looking defeated.

"I'm not staying there Jasper, I'm staying at the Embassy Suits, can you take me there?"

"Sure darlin' come on." She scoots out of the booth and I wrap my arm around her securing her to my side. We walk into the fresh morning air, and towards the car. I help her in and buckle up. "Bella, I know I can't be Edward, but I'm here for you… if you want me to."

She sighs and closes her eyes, "thanks Jasper." I nod my head to myself and get in, heading to the hotel that is Bella's temporary resting place.


End file.
